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North Perth, WA, 6006
Australia

Valentine's Day, A Sensation

The Amber Fresh Chronicles

Valentine's Day, A Sensation

Andrew Ryan

well hello.

this is about the sweetest valentines day that ever was. some were not free, not me. some were dead, not here, not this one.

i wandered out to the shed alone, after talking to a little boy on the facebook phone. i wrote a song with flowers in it and love in it. outside the shed the flowers had just started to bloom, and i took a little breath in.

i wandered down towards the park, past all the trees i love, thinking and smiling of the one big love. the night before on the facebook phone an acquaintance became a friend, telling me my future by tarot cards, and talking together in writing about god. he sent me a long story about meeting jesus as a dog on an acid trip, assuring me it was really jesus. i put that dog in the song, in the shed.

so i wandered to the park and sat alone, my legs into the sun, my overalls on. my feet dipping toward the water and toward the brahmi edging the big wide pond. the secret of this plant to me is ‘you can eat me.’ it puts a smiley face next to the message. and when i smile, it puts a kiss face.

so past the magpies and past a man with a pram, a tiny baby with a tiny bottle held to its lips in the arms of the man, i lay on the grass. and out of the book patti smith told me a secret – “three chords and words that matter” – and i smiled like the smile of a talking plant. secretly, gently, deeply. i rolled over, watched the man, read my book.

and patti went all the way to france to see the place where rimbaud was laying. and i knew that feeling, going all the way to france on a strange dream and being in a room alone and crying a happy cry of things working out strangely.

i kept turning the pages but eventually i looked down, and there, of course was a dragonfly, hugging on my toe. i thought ‘i am being hugged by a flying dragon’, i thought, ‘this is the perfect valentines day’. the dragonfly went from one foot across the sky to the other foot. i told it in my mind ‘fly to the book too.’ but instead the sun dappled down on the book, and that dragon flew away.

i flew away too, slowly, feet on the grass. i drank coffee on a concrete bench with luka nearby and tried to remember all the days that had gone, and write little pictures of them. one way to know the past is to see what i told louie day by day. little louie.

so all the day went by like this, ‘alone’, enfolded in the love of the ground and plants, walking through my favourite park, and then the evening came and evenings are for parties.

i walked again, down to loren’s in close hugging pants and a denim jacket, feeling silly in other people’s thrown away clothes, and got to the door and got hugged and got in a car and went to where the rich kids grew, now in a soft borrowed jumper to be less conspicuous and now getting melancholy after a day of happy valleys.

and we all were there around the pool, and michael came with his pupils tiny from pharmaceuticals, because they’d opened up his knee, muddled things around in there, sprinkled healing dust inside, sewn it all back up. we talked about the future, our dreams, and i stopped feeling sad and bored looking into his brown eyes, and then michael said ‘what is your favourite poem?’

i told him ‘in bed, in the first salt light. in my east ear i hear birds waking, and in the right, ocean breaking inward from the night.’ my highschool boyfriend, xavier, wrote this to me in a card and i would say it to myself, over and over. it is from something by ursula le guinn.

and michael told me “‘sensations’ by rimbaud”. rimbaud, who i’d been waiting all this time to love. michael got that poem up on his phone, and i read it and my eyes welled up and i couldn’t speak. and michael read the words out loud to me, and my eyes welled up again. ‘this poem is going to be very important in my life,’ i told him. and i meant – i have been waiting all this time to love rimbaud, and here it is, the moment, by the pool with you my friend, after a day of patti telling me about going to his places, his museum, his hotels, and here is this poem, written from god to me, from the future to me, from rimbaud to you, from the sky to patti smith, from one dragonfly to the brahmi it floats over in the sunlight. gee.

i danced on the concrete in a dark room under paintings by belle. three girls made me jump in the pool and swum me round and put their legs around me. and we trailed dancing into the big shower together, silly and wonderful, and everyone giggled at everyone else with wet hair and bikinis and underwear on and got dressed and danced again with chlorine skin and there was a dog like a lamb that i fed tiny pieces of bread to under the table, just this once.

on the way home i was on my bike, in the warm darkness, with the denim jacket back on, and i missed things like xavier and biffy and felix, but i was very very happy to have spent this perfect day, in this way, with you.